The Taken
by Sasukeluva 4eva
Summary: It was to be a day that he would NEVER forget; and for all the WRONG reasons. Halloween!Contest Fic. Sasuke-Centric. Dark/Horror/Angst/Mystery/Suspense/Family/GORE AND CHARACTER DEATH; Please Read & Review!


**a/n: Written as an entry for a Halloween contest on deviantART; please do enjoy.**

_**Prompts:**__ Uchiha Sasuke-kun, Asian Horror Flicks, "Curses" & Halloween._

_**Music Playlist **__(in no particular order)__**:**_**The GazettE**_—__Burial Applicant__; __Ogre__, _**D'espairsRay**_—__Grudge__; __Infection__; __Damned__, _**Kagerou**_—__Wrist Cutter__, _**Girugamesh**_—__Dirty Blue Blood__, _**NEGA**_—__Haunted Jealousy__; __NEO DESTRUCTION__, _**Sadie**_—__Guide of Sorrow__; __This is Halloween__; __Crimson Tear__; __Grieving The Dead Soul__; __Ageha no Nakigara__, _**Slipknot**_ [stay _sic_ maggots]_**'s**'Snap'; 'Heretic Anthem'_, _**DISTURBED's**'The Game'_; _'Voices'_; _'Sickness'_; _'Numb'_; _'Forgiven'_, _**Drowning Pool's**'Bodies'_; _'Hate'_, & _**FFDP's**'Dying Breed'_. (All chosen to further enrich the experience of 'horror'.) _

_**Challenge:**__ To write a PRE-MASSACRE Uchiha Sasuke based fanfic/oneshot/drabble series in relevance to the theme "Halloween". This can be taken as a horror genre, or an adventure fic of the author's choice. _

_**Summary: **__It was to be a day that he would __**never**__ forget; and for all the __**wrong reasons**__._

_**Rating:**_M

_**Categories:**_HORROR_, _**Mystery**_, _SUSPENSE_, Family_

_**Pairing: **_None_ (Sasuke/Itachi _**Sibling**_ Relationship Present)_

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><p><strong>S<strong>a_s_**u**k_e_**l**u_v_**a** 4_e_**v**a _p_**r**e_s_**e**n_t_**s;**

_**.*~*…The Taken…*~*.**_

_An Uchiha Sasuke Halloween Fanfiction_

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><p><em>Thud! Step! Thud!<em>

It was an androgynous rhythm, repetitive in its painful precision, and all too familiar; a terrifying sound emitted to fill the silent, pregnant pauses of the chilly October nights; a _constant_ reminder of all that he had _lost_—of all that had _gone wrong_ in these past two days.

Two days of sheer, incomprehensible _hell_.

The reverberations themselves were not what frightened, _inspired_, such fear in him—it was the creature, _thing_, _**monster**_ (that were the _cause_ of the unnatural disruptions) that had a deep coil of fear settling into his every pore, muscles rigid with tension and everlasting strain as his anxiety escalated with the sudden quietude.

That was _never_ a good sign.

Even if it had only been two days, Uchiha Sasuke had already attuned himself (grown accustomed) to their movements, their every thought and impulse, and with even the _slightest_ alteration in their usually predictable pattern, his perceptiveness of the situation skyrocketed, alongside his trepidation; when _they_ stopped moving, it meant they no longer needed to _hunt_.

Which implied that their next meal had been cornered.

Swallowing inaudibly, the raven haired child of no more than seven flickered his gaze from side to side, up and across the wooden banisters that made up the staircase he was currently taking refuge underneath, watching keenly for any sudden changes in atmosphere; heart pounding behind his ribs with enough force to snap them in all in two, Sasuke slowly, stealthily, slid across the ligneous planks at his feet, remaining ever vigilant as he took refuge amongst the entrenched stacks of boxes and discarded ninja tools, settling stiffly alongside what appeared to be a dust-laden shelf filled to the brim with tattered, aging scrolls of varying sizes and importance.

Had the current circumstances neither been so dire nor demanding of perpetual alertness, the young Uchiha would have eagerly remained in place, memorising their contents with a mixture of interest and mild boredom; although he had always secretly prayed for a means of quelling his lackadaisical deprivation of entertainment, the predicament that he had been involuntarily thrown into was certainly _not_ what he had had in mind.

In fact, all he had really wanted was to have a brother to brother day, just him and Itachi, spending what would have been an enjoyable Halloween evening following the standard procedures of the event; Trick-r-Treating, scaring the neighbourhood and village inhabitants with 'cruel' practical jokes and employing equally horrifying costumes as a means of doing so, and settling down by the Jack-O-Lanterns' in the Uchiha compound's Main House (their house, in other words) to tell chilling tales of slaughter and intrigue.

But that was obviously not what was destined in the stars of fate, because, two days before Halloween, Itachi had been summoned by the Hokage for a special S-Ranked solo mission, requiring him to be deployed immediately in order to remove the threat and smooth down any 'political obstacles' that may or may not arise with his actions of disposal.

All of which would essentially take more than a week to complete, even at his level of strength and shinobi prowess.

And although it had been a low blow—as Itachi had been looking forward to Halloween (and spending time with his little brother) equally as much as Sasuke—for both siblings to handle, Itachi had begrudgingly left to pursue the matter as quickly as his quota would allow, so that he could return and at least instigate an event for the two of them _alone_ to make up for lost time; and yet _another_ promise was shattered, left broken in the wake of his leave, once more.

It had been at that time, exactly six hours _after_ Itachi had set out, that the horrors began.

There had been no noticeable signs of danger, to begin with; all was peaceful, the sun shining warm rays of golden yellow onto the crisp green grass of his mother's personalised garden, the flowers swaying softly with the wind, which gently caressed the petals (_as if immersing itself in a game of cat and mouse, where the flower would never succeed in capturing the cunningly fickle breeze_), the soft trickling of the water feature and the soft, happy chirps of the village's bird life humming contentedly in the shells of his ears—a welcome presence indeed, for the young boy, who was busying himself with shuriken practice.

It was only when he had taken aim for the sixth consecutive time that afternoon, when he had shifted his weight ever so slightly onto the opposite foot, that he noticed; the darkening of the sky, too sudden for such an early hour in the arvo, and the tense, dissonant taciturnity that created a distinct sense of unease in the once garrulous atmosphere.

Something was off, eerily _unnatural_, about the ambiance.

And that something was the beginning of the end…

Of his innocence; of his naivety…

Of _everything_.

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><p>Impossibly dark shadows inked across the scenery, at a leisurely, almost <em>mocking<em>, pace, staining every nook, cranny and corner of the village with its oppressive presence, no amount of area an exception as the blackness settled itself, before extending its reaches even further, aligned with the eclipsing sun.

The villagers looked on in confusion and wonderment, littering the streets and packing themselves together in interwoven huddles as they gazed up at the gradually disappearing sun—only a thin sliver of golden-white light remained, the source glinting ominously in stark contrast to the dimness that had become nightfall.

There was an element of surprise running throughout everyone's systems, but more so than anything else, a pulse of fear streaking their otherwise placid facades, hidden away by the curiosity that was spiked as they watched the last of their light—_their hope_—disperse into nothingness, the sudden darkness a shock to logic as the villagers scrambled to maintain their lost sense of vision.

As their eyes adjusted to the now pitch black surroundings, the shadows began to move, crawling at a faster pace until everyone in every street was smothered in noir; eyesight further hindered and obscured, all the inhabitants of Konohagakure could do was remain rigid in place, drowning in the repetitive sounds that were their heartbeats and bated breaths, seemingly reverberating in the painful silence that followed the loss of light. Not a word was uttered.

And then…

_Thud!_

The first perpetual form of noise was sounded, causing a large accumulation of bewilderment to take form amongst the shinobi and civilians; how could anyone have even bothered _attempting_ such a foolish thing as to _move_, when clearly the odds were clearly in Mother Nature's favour?

It wasn't surprising that they had fallen, considering the severe lack of luminosity.

There was a stiff, pregnant pause as everyone attuned their ears, listening carefully for the embarrassed response of the ignoramus that had tripped over their own two feet.

Instead they were met with something entirely different.

_Step!_

It was almost as if the person had managed to regain their bearings, like they were taking their first steps to test the water, before carefully adjusting to the new conditions; that was the only way to describe the lone footstep, strong in its resonance (_like thunder heralding its end, startling the nervous systems of everyone in the harsh quiet_) as it carried to the ears of all that lived and breathed.

Then…

_Thud!_

A heavier intonation—almost as if the source of the racket had attained a hefty limp—became audible, followed by a series of odd scraping noises, like a body being dragged over hard cement, all of which served their purpose of disorienting, confusing; just like that…

_The clamour stopped._

All that remained in its wake were a series of laboured breaths, and frantic, fluttering heartbeats, residing in the now anxious village people. That was certainly not natural; such dins were not to be perceived in the same light as that of one simpleton who had lost their footing in the dark.

Then what on earth…?

A bizarre occurrence followed, disrupting the flow of thoughts as quickly as they had come; at first it was relatively silent (when the villagers were not taken into consideration), before a gurgled rasping erupted, unnervingly discreet to begin with, before heightening in volume, leaving a cold slither of dread to crawl up and down their spines, raising the hair on their bodies into chilling lumps as cackles of broken, disconnected laughter transcended over the stillness, locking limbs into place as they waited for what was to come.

Within seconds of the manic laughter starting, it ended, its timbre echoing in the shells of their ears as loudly as if it had never ceased, which terrified them beyond all incomprehensible belief.

And as if taunting their acuity and terror, the 'thing' repeated its torturous actions.

_Thud!—Step!—Thud!_

_Thud!—Step!—Thud!_

_Thud!_ Suddenly closer. _Step!_ Coming closer still. _Thud!_

_**The sounds ceased altogether.**_

"_Nnyeee—aaaaar—gghhh—ccck—__**ah**__—__**ha**__—__**ha**__—!"_

Bone chilling was their mockery—their robotic laughter—that the villagers openly shook, wept and sobbed, fear of the unknown clouding their judgement as the shinobi forces gathered as best they could via chakra reading, wary for any attacks made on them as they did so. Making the necessary commands, a handful of fire elementals—explicitly members of the famed Uchiha Clan—called upon their birth-right, completing the seals only to unleash an ocean of flames, large enough to illuminate the area so that they could adequately gauge the status of their enemy.

The sight that welcomed them had petrified shrieks of horror bursting forth in ample quantity.

Mangled limbs, torn and missing in some, completely distorted on unnatural angles in others; dripping streams of blood from open and empty orifices and gaping wounds; what would have once been considered a mouth was apparently left as jawless, ripped flesh, bloody and hanging in shreds with monstrously long fangs, reeking of the stench of decay protruding on contorted inclines from the blacking pulp; greying flesh falling away to reveal chunks of maggots, burying their way through the twisted flesh of their meal, opening sores and welts in which they came spewing out from in masses, tumbling to the ground and writhing around in a frenzy at the loss of food, before meeting their end by tangled arms, feet and stomachs (if one were to have observed at a closer distance, they would have been able to see the guts and innards spilt and splattered all over the bloodied, cragged earth); bones obtruding hideously (out of place) from their original joints and sockets; matted hair, the skull caps of many torn away to give a clear view of the insect and parasitic life actively devouring the brain matter until only mushy tissue was left in its place.

The… _monstrosities_ stumbled in that same sardonically muted rhythm as heard in the darkness, heads tilted on disturbing angles (if at all [implying the lack of said head]) as they made their slow progression towards the cowering humans.

But what was most disturbing about these creatures were the three _leading_ them into the flames.

They seemed to be no more than six years of age, flawlessly unmarked by the shadows that shrouded the rotting cadavers behind them, and disconcertingly beautiful, with their almost _translucently_ pale skin, inky black hair, and dark, wide eyes; the only traits that gave them away from being 'innocent' little children were the shredded clothing that adorned them, dyed forever scarlet with the blood of their victims, the vacant expression in their fathomless onyx orbs, and the almost _insane_ grins on their otherwise blank faces, as if this was the most entertaining spectacle that they had ever bore witness to—it was the kind of smile that left one's skin crawling upon sight, where the corners tilted to unnatural proportions, peeling away the layers of '_virtuousness_' and '_incorruptibility_' to display their true nature for all to behold.

It was a truly horrifying revelation to be confronted with.

Eyes bulging, screams rising in octaves, panic swallowing common sense and rationality, the villagers burst forth into impending chaos, regardless of the shinobis orders to stay put, tearing away from their friends and loved ones in order to salvage their own lives, running only to be cornered by the very creatures that had flanked their forefronts; they were everywhere, littered like neglected garbage in every portion and sanction of terrain, crawling forward on all fours, stomachs, flanks, and lurching forward by foot, eye-sockets unseeing as they skulked towards the scent of fresh meat, whilst the three 'children' (_monsters_ in the form of infants) fed off of their fear, their screams and pleas for help.

Help that never came.

Because no matter what jutsu was thrown at them, no matter what barriers were conjured to keep them at bay, they managed to slip through, those trying to flee only stumbling straight into the _creatures_ decomposing arms.

And those that were _taken_…

Their screams echoed endlessly in the chaos of the night, the flames engulfing the buildings of Konoha in their brilliant orange glow casting haunting shadows of the victims being torn apart, the sickening spattering of blood and guts, the slurping and grinding of teeth against bone, and the insidious, frenzied laughter of 'the children' rumbling through the eclipsing darkness of Hallows Eve.

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><p>For the following two days, the same pattern occurred all over the village, spreading like a disease, an infinitesimal plague that soon became an epidemic of massive proportions, wherein all became a fatality, without regard of social status, creed, sex or nationality—it was an infection that affected anything that lived and breathed. Even the wildlife that Sasuke had so once loved; he had learnt the hard way just how <em>vicious<em> even the most placid of animals became once _taken_.

And he outright refused to become like the rest of those… _things_.

Putrid and unearthly; one that did not belong in the natural scheme of things.

So that was why he ran, why he _hid_ when the rest of his proud Clan _fought off_ the imposing threat with everything that they had had, only to find that their efforts were in vain; expended and weak, they fell, one by one, to the Horde of 'Taken', being devoured as ruthlessly as the rest of the villagers until nothing remained of them but mangled, indistinguishable corpses, bloody and thoroughly raped of all flesh and physical attributes that would have once defined them as an 'aunty', 'uncle' or 'cousin'.

Sasuke choked back tears and bile at the thought of how his _parents_ must look; or in this case, how they _don't_ look anymore.

Clamping a hand over his mouth so as to prevent any further whimpers from escaping (how his father would frown in shame of his feebleness), the little Uchiha peered out through the cracks of the abandoned stairwell, heart practically jamming itself in his mouth as he bided his time waiting for an opening to find a safer place to hide away.

What could be defined as 'safe' anymore is open to interpretation.

Although dark, Sasuke could still make out the distinct inky blotches that were the distorted creatures, standing idly in place, swaying lightly on their working limbs as they gazed intently at the building across the street from the one he currently inhabited (his own home lay in shambles, ripped to the ground by The Taken as they commenced a _hunt_ for more food).

Relief flooded his system when they began to move further away from where he was currently positioned (what was left of the tattered dojo doors obscuring the stairwell he currently occupied with much disdain, as it left him trapped like an accosted rat if _they_ decided to do an about face in his direction), but that was all a temporary and very fleeting moment, because out of nowhere 'the children' appeared, their sights trained on the house he was camouflaging himself within, their expressions remaining as blank (yet morbidly amused at the same time) as they had when he had first caught wind of their presence—when they had killed his mother in cold blood.

He had had to watch her in horror from behind the folds of the neighbouring house's curtains as they cornered her in the training hall, her eyes wild and wet with tears as she screamed for her husband, her sons, _who were nowhere to be seen_, sickening laughter erupting every so often in sweet trickles that had icicles forming in the blood of those who heard it, as they advanced, taunting her with turgid grins and soulless wide eyes.

Her hysteria only heightened as she tripped in the darkness of the room, a brief flash of thunder illuminating the cause of her loss of footing; there, in a pile of his own blood, lay Fugaku, her husband—Sasuke's father.

Cold; and very, _very_ **dead**.

"AIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEE!" Her pained shrieks cut through the night, and Sasuke could not prevent the tears from falling as he watched her scramble over him, pulling the deceased man, the love of her life, into her lap, cradling his head to her chest as she wept; wept for his loss, wept for the loss of her missing sons—wept for she was about to share the same fate as he, her husband and soul mate, discolouring and limp (and cold, _so very cold_) in her futile embrace.

No comfort could be found for either herself or Sasuke, who watched helplessly as she took her last breaths, the light disappearing from the room in time to disguise her figure in black, taking her to a place where the seven year old boy could no longer venture with just his eyes. All he could do was wait, and listen, in pure, irrevocable horror as his mother breathed her last breaths, her sudden, ear-splitting scream cutting through him with such painful precision that it was as if he himself had been stabbed with a thousand individual blades, the cries she had once been voicing suddenly waning, ending with a final, garbled gasp that even _he_ could hear at such a great distance.

Such was the silence of the night.

After many minutes in aggrieved quietude, Sasuke slid to his knees, vomit clogging his throat, which he made no attempt at halting when it all but forced its way out of his mouth, colliding with the carpeted floor in a sick _'SPLAT!'_ formation, his eyes spewing tears as he gasped for air, air that would not reach his lungs fast enough.

His mother, father, uncles, aunts and cousins, _all of them_, **dead**.

In one night, all that had ever held any meaning to him had been _taken_ from him in one foul swoop.

_Allgone_allgone_**theyreallgone**__!_

Sasuke screamed in his head, to no avail; they would not be returning, not from the realm they had been banished to.

The way that they had died… was worse than a death offered by _enemy torture_, a death that every shinobi neither wanted nor fully prepared for, but had as a permanent possibility forged into the back of their minds.

It surpassed all normal expectations of premeditated death, the normal standard of terror, and that in itself had Sasuke all but gagging on the remnants of his lunch, hands entwined in his charcoal locks and tugging almost brutally, very nearly tearing the hair from its roots as he shook with repressed spasms; he was afraid, so very afraid.

Of death, of watching his loved ones die, of _dying_.

And because of this, because of his will to live, _to survive_, he _fled_, and continued to find places to _hide_, gradually making his way out of the Uchiha Compound and into the heart of Konoha, intent on seeking help from another of the Hidden Villages, in hopes that they could clear the situation, make something of the unnatural occurrences of these past two days.

It was all he could do to remain sane.

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><p>So now here he was, desperately trying to escape from the place he once called home, manoeuvring through The Taken with as much stealth as a full-fledged ninja, their raspy moaning sending chills up his spine as he evaded their lumbering advances; leading up to where he was currently, under those blasted stairs, waiting for an opening that would never come, thanks to the unwanted approach of 'the children', who were currently staring intently in his direction, almost as if they were seeing <em>right through him<em>—regardless of the thick board of wood that shielded him from their sights.

Their irritatingly inane smiles only grew in length, until it looked as if their whole faces (_their fragile, diminutive faces_) were being eclipsed, fangs visible alongside several rows of sharp, tiny teeth, lips and incisors coated with blood and raw human flesh—they had eaten, it seemed.

But they were in no way sated, Sasuke presumed, because it was now time to _play_.

Gratingly smooth (contradictory as it was, they made it work), 'the children' spoke in unison, voices high and mechanical as they locked eyes with the one Sasuke was currently employing to scout out a break, empty orbs staring straight into his soul as they did so.

"_Ah—ha—ha—We—see—you—Uchi—ha—Sas—uke! Co—me—out—and—pla—y! Ah—ha—ha_!"

Sasuke froze as The Taken turned briskly in his direction (incongruous to their usual sluggishness), pausing in their movements for only a moment before diving towards his location at a speed that startled him out of his stupor, enough so for him to dart up the stairs, skidding down the panelled hallway of the upper levels of the house, before making a dive for the closest window, throwing his body through the hard, dew-laden glass, the broken shards from the impact lodging themselves into his flesh and bringing blood to the surface of the torn skin.

He was desensitised to the pain, no longer feeling anything remotely physical as the adrenaline pumped through his veins, his entire body, small as it was, propelling sharply through the air like a renegade kunai, the chakra in his body travelling instinctively to his feet; like his brother had taught him to do when circumstances proved dire and life threatening.

Sasuke soon found himself running awkwardly over rooftops, stumbling every so often, before regaining his balance and enhancing his chakra flow to suit his needs, speeding away from the shadows that pursued him from below; 'the children's' repetitive chants raising goose bumps on his flesh as he put the distance between them.

"_Trick—r—Treat, we—smell—meat, Dad—dy—Uchi—ha—dies. _

_Trick—r—Treat, we—smell—meat, Mom—my—Uchi—ha—cries. _

_Trick—r—Treat, we—smell—meat, Big—Bro—ther—Uchi—ha—for—ever—sleeps. _

_Trick—r—Treat, we—smell—meat, Lit—tle—Bro—ther—Uchi—ha—bleeds—and—weeps. _

_Trick—r—Treat, we—smell—meat, Lit—tle—Bro—ther—Uchi—ha, it's—your—turn—too. _

_Trick—r—Treat, we—smell—meat, Lit-tle—Bro—ther—Uchi—ha, __**we're**__—__**com**__—__**ing**__—__**for**__—__**you**_."

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><p><strong>NOTE:<strong>_** WAY OVER THE WORD LIMIT. Meh, who cares (sorry for my **_lackadaisical attitude**,**_** but I needed to get this out of my system, and since it couldn't be **_**too**_** gory… well, I compensated with length. Go figure. :/)?**_

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><p><strong>an: This could stand as a oneshot, or a multi-chapter fanfic, all depending on the feedback I receive. Although I would say that this needs to be carried on, in order to explain what 'The Taken' are, essentially. But again, that is up to you, the readers.**

**Please review. It would make my day. (:**

**And a Happy Halloween, to those who celebrate the holiday (it's just an excuse to wear freaky cosplay and scare the living shit out of people, as well as watch horror flicks and tell spooky stories, but meh, who cares)!**

**May all of your worst nightmares come true this hallowed night of the year, and terror run as clear as day through your systems as they play out before your very eyes.**

**Until the next time I update.**

**Ja ne!**

—**R**_i_n **(Sasukeluva 4eva)**


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